Making Rules
by Embolalia
Summary: Chapter 10: Don't Walk Away. A rule they can't agree to...
1. Don't Panic

Welcome! Hopefully those of you who faithfully read _Making Exceptions _have found your way here. If you haven't read that, or haven't read all of it, I'd recommend starting there; this story depends on that one. It picks up literally an hour after ME ends. I made this a new piece because the format and tone are going to be a little different. You'll see what I mean soon...

* * *

**Making Rules**

A few strong instincts and a few plain rules suffice us.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803- 1882)

_Essays – First Series_

*****

"Your collection is improving," Tony called from the living room.

"What?" Ziva stilled the salad spinner and stuck her head through the doorway. When she saw him flipping through the stack of DVDs near the television she rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course." Tony grinned at her and she smiled back, then went back to dress the salad.

"Gentlemen Prefer Blondes?" he asked, confused, a moment later.

"Abby's," Ziva shouted back.

"Gotcha."

Ziva carried the salad and two plates into the living room, where the take-out Tony had brought was out on the table. "Ready?"

"Always." He gave her a look that seemed to be less about eating than other things and accepted a plate. Ziva tried not to blush as she sat down next to him.

They began to eat. By their third bite, the silence had taken on a tinge of awkwardness.

Tony glanced up. "Movie?" he asked tightly.

Ziva hesitated, then shook her head. "We should talk, Tony."

"Make some rules?"

"If you like," Ziva answered guardedly. "Did you have any in mind?"

Tony paused, then set his plate to the side. "Look." He saw her flinch and took Ziva's plate, set it on the table by his. "If we're going to make rules, we have to decide what we're making rules about." He saw Ziva's brow quirk in confusion. "I mean..." He tried to summon the words. "We have to decide what to call this. Us."

Ziva's eyes cleared. She nodded once. "We are no longer starting at the beginning?" she asked, her voice laced with irony.

He grimaced in mock-defeat. "Yeah. No." His expression grew wistful. "We're not at the beginning or the end, Ziva. We're right in the middle and it's a mess."

"But rules will make it less messy," she said optimistically.

"That's the idea." Tony flinched. Neither of them was getting anywhere near the subject. "How about this? I'll tell you what I want and then you tell me what you want and we both agree to listen before we panic."

"That could be a rule," Ziva tossed out, stalling. "Listen before you panic."

"Or _Don't Panic_?" Tony asked, grinning.

Ziva laughed, and the tension eased. "We can work on the wording later."

Tony froze, realizing he'd just agreed to bare his soul. "Okay. Here goes." He swallowed hard. "I, obviously, suck masterfully at long-term relationships, but I want one with you. I want us to figure out whatever we need to do heal on our own and together and then...I don't ever want to be apart from you again."

Ziva's heart raced.

"Your turn," Tony whispered after a minute.

"Right." She shook herself. "I..." Her eyes fixed on his, so encouraging, then so nervous the longer she paused. "I want to trust you completely, but I am not sure I have ever trusted anyone completely." Her eyes dropped. "Not since Ari, at least."

Tony reached out and squeezed her hand.

Ziva looked back up. "I want to build a life here with you, when we are both ready for it. A real family, not the bad ones that we both had or the substitute we have at NCIS. A real one."

"With babies?" Tony tried to keep his voice from squeaking as he fought panic.

She laughed softly at his discomfort. "We can discuss that later, I believe, Tony. Much later."

"Good," he muttered under his breath.

Ziva nodded, pressing onward. "I want to feel whole again, and safe. And that is not about you exactly, but the closest I come to feeling that way is when I am with you." She watched as his eyes flooded with unnerving warmth. Just the glow in his eyes brought the panic closer. "I want to feel whole enough to be worthy of the way you are looking at me," Ziva added in a whisper.

Tony smiled gently. "Me, too."

Ziva was startled to realize how intently she was looking at him and drew away abruptly, but Tony still had her hand.

"Don't panic," he reminded her.

Nodding, Ziva tried to relax back into her previous posture. "This," she frowned. "This will not be easy for either of us, Tony, I think. It is one thing to know what we want and another to have to work for it."

He shrugged. "Pulling off band-aids always hurts."

"What?" Ziva scowled in confusion.

"You know," Tony pulled his hands free so he could gesticulate. "You put on a band-aid because you're injured in some way, and then to check on how you're doing you pull it off and it pulls out the hair on your arm and it hurts and maybe you're better and if you're not you have to do it all over again the next day..." He smiled at Ziva's still-perplexed expression. "I know. That's all I meant. But right now, at this moment, we want the same things. And I'm not letting you go."

"Well, you've proved that," Ziva answered with a touch of sarcasm.

"Yeah, yeah, eat your food," Tony grinned. "I'm picking a movie."

"Alright." She reached for her plate, rolling her eyes affectionately when Tony chose _Anchorman. _"Isn't that a movie that proves _Gibbs_' rule twelve?"

Tony looked at her, aghast. "It proves the opposite! They live happily ever after!" He grabbed his own food and settled beside her.

Ziva leaned her head against Tony's shoulder as he hit play on the remote and the music started. Her stomach was still roiling with the nervousness of revealing her deepest desires to him. But so far, so good. "We did not make a rule!" she said suddenly.

Tony glanced down at her surprised face. "I think 'Don't Panic' will hold us over for now."

Ziva looked away pensively, then back up. "It should not be number one."

He nodded. "Okay. Rule number seven: Don't Panic."

"Seven? Why seven?"

"Shh. The movie's starting."

* * *

So, my tentative plan for the format of this piece is to do one rule per chapter. And while I do have some in mind, I'd also like to open the floor to your suggestions. Any ideas? Either serious or silly could work. Leave a review or a message and I'll see if I can work them in!


	2. Gibbs Is Not In This Relationship

**Making Rules**

Disclaimer: I am too sleepy to spell-check well right now. Also, and I probably don't say this often enough, I don't own NCIS.

Credit for today's rule goes to LittleCatt. A lot of you suggested a few of the same major themes for rules, but they were bigger ones and I'm working up to them. Don't hesitate to leave me more ideas if you're inspired!

* * *

"Haven't seen you two glaring at each other lately," Gibbs said lightly as the car tore out of the Navy Yard parking lot, heading toward the crime scene where a petty officer had recently been found being gnawed on by a foot-long DC rat.

Ziva shrugged, a coy smile tugging at her lips.

Gibbs glanced over in time to catch it. "Something you want to tell me?"

She picked imaginary lint off the knee of her cargo pants. "We went to see his therapist again together." She looked over at him nervously.

"Good." Gibbs nodded in approval. "Is it helping?"

Ziva cocked her head pensively. "I think so. We are getting better at talking and saying what we actually mean."

"Right place to start."

"She told us to make our own rules," Ziva added nervously, wondering how Gibbs would feel about them telling a psychiatrist about his personal code.

His face was transformed by a surprisingly wistful smile as he stopped abruptly at a light. "Did I ever tell you where the rules came from, Ziver?"

She looked at him, startled. "No."

Gibbs glanced at her for a second, his eyes bright. "When I was eighteen, I met Shannon. And she told me she could sit with me as long as I wasn't a lumberjack. Because one of her rules was never to date a lumberjack." He slammed on the gas quickly enough to miss the sympathy in Ziva's eyes.

"You made yours because of her," she concluded.

He nodded jerkily, eyes on the road. "After she died."

A chill of fear laced through Ziva's belly. The pain in Gibbs' voice nearly twenty years later spoke more frighteningly to why she'd avoided committing to Tony all this time than anything he could have said.

"But you're doing it together," Gibbs continued. "That's better."

Ziva gazed at him in surprise for the second time in as many minutes. She nodded hesitantly.

Gibbs glanced over at her as he parked the car, picked up at once on the hint of fear in her eyes. "Ziver," he said firmly. "We had fifteen years. No matter what, you wish there was more time. Don't run away from it."

He seemed to be waiting for something, so Ziva nodded stiffly, awed at the length of his speech and its emotional depth.

Gibbs got out of the car, slammed the door. It took Ziva a second to realize she was supposed to join him.

*

One crime scene later, the team made it back to the Navy Yard and Tony and Gibbs headed down to Abby with the evidence they'd collected.

"I hear you're making rules," Gibbs said in amusement, glancing at Tony over the top of the box of evidence the younger agent was carrying for him.

Tony froze, eyes wide. "We...yeah. She told you that?"

Gibbs squinted sideways at him. "She did."

Tony nodded, frowning to himself. "Well, we are," he said shortly.

"She seems nervous," Gibbs added.

Fuming, Tony walked quickly out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened.

*

"Ziva," Tony said seriously, cornering her in the empty evidence garage where she was dusting the victim's car for fingerprints. He tried to keep his voice from sounding angry but knew he was failing.

She whirled at once. "Tony!" Her smile evaporated when she met his eyes.

"You told Gibbs about the rules? About therapy?" His jaw clenched.

Ziva's face fell in abashment. "I always talk to Gibbs. He told me about--"

"But this isn't about your relationship with him," Tony growled. "He shouldn't be the one telling me how you feel about what's between us!"

Her brow wrinkled. "Are you jealous of Gibbs?"

Tony opened his mouth to defend himself, then closed it, trying to figure out exactly why he was angry. He held out his hands, trying to explain. "We don't have a lot of friends, and let's not dwell on what that says about us. But you don't get to have him. People take sides in relationships and I get that he's sort of your father. But he's sort of mine, too."

"Relationships?" Ziva questioned, a hint of a tease in her voice.

Tony glared. "Don't miss the point."

Ziva nodded resolutely. "I have not, Tony. But I am used to talking to Gibbs. He helps me to clarify things, sometimes, when they need clarifying."

"And I'm not saying don't talk to him," Tony emphasized. "But not about me. Not about us. Talk to _me_ first."

She sighed. "Alright. Gibbs is not part of this relationship."

Tony grinned. "Now that sounds like a rule."


	3. No More Secrets

**Making Rules**

So, I'm leaving the time-line on this kind of vague so I can decide when the show returns after the Olympics whether I want to weave the episodes in or not. Best assume that chapters are happening at most a few days apart unless otherwise noted. Also, this chapter relies on you having read Making Exceptions. So do it!

A few of you suggested something along the lines of the rule for this chapter, including Betherzzz, ME Wofford and Melissa Rivers. Bonus points to you all!

* * *

Tony followed Ziva toward the lab, matching her brisk pace. Suddenly she stopped and he nearly fell over trying to keep from crashing into her. "Ziva! What--" And then he smelled it. He didn't know how something could go from innocuous to agitating in a week, but there was no denying the power that the scent now had over him as well as Ziva. He stepped next to her and laced his fingers through hers.

After a moment, Ziva glanced up, her eyes shifting frantically even as she stood still.

"It's Abby's," Tony said as firmly as he could. "You're safe."

She nodded tentatively.

He stepped toward the doorway, tugging Ziva after him. "Rule seven," he reminded her.

"Always be specific when you lie?" Abby asked brightly from a foot away.

Tony jumped, squeezing Ziva's hand to keep her from panicking in spite of the rule.

Abby didn't miss the gesture. "Tony! Ziva!" she shrieked.

They separated at once. Abby grabbed both of their now-vacant hands and pulled them into the lab. "How could you lie at all! This is great! You can have gorgeous spy babies and you might have to keep it a secret from the boss-man, I guess, but--"

"What's a secret?" Ducky piped up from the camera on Abby's workbench.

Ziva turned despairing eyes toward Tony as Palmer appeared over Ducky's shoulder.

"Tony and Ziva are totally together! They were holding hands and everything!" Abby exclaimed.

Tony winced. Abby was high-strung even for her, and the caf-pow smell was over-powering inside the the lab.

"Re-ally." McGee said knowingly from further inside the lab.

They both glared at him,.

"And here you said I was writing fiction this whole time."

There was a pregnant pause as everyone waited for a denial, but after a mintue Ducky leapt to fill the silence. "Congratulations!" he called from the camera.

"Why were you going to lie about it, Tony?" Abby asked.

Tony and Ziva stared at each other. There was no going back now. She shrugged slightly, letting him speak. "We were making our own list of rules," he said slowly.

Abby gasped in pleasure, clapping her hands together. "What's number one? It's hard to top, 'I am the Lord your God,' but 'Never screw over your partner,' does pretty well--"

"We are still working on them, Abby," Ziva said, trying to cut her off.

"I should think 'Never take anything for granted,' work just as well for a relationship as a crime scene," Ducky suggested from the monitor. Palmer opened his mouth to add his own opinion, but Ducky continued. "And with that, we have to finish our autopsy. Best of luck, Tony, Ziva."

They waved weakly as he cut the feed.

Abby and McGee still faced them with feral grins. "What about 'Never involve lawyers'?" Abby added. "Don't want to follow in Gibbs' footsteps in the divorce department."

"I've heard 'Never go to bed angry' is a pretty good one," McGee offered.

"Like you've ever been in a bed with a woman!" Tony hastily deflected, trying to get out of the conversation.

McGee rolled his eyes. Abby punched Tony in the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Don't me mean, Tony!" She turned to Ziva. "I'm still allowed to do that, right? If he's your...boyfriend? Wow, that sounds weird. What term do you like? Lover?"

"Partner will do, Abby," Ziva said stiffly. "And, by all means."

"Hey!" Tony protested.

Ziva grinned up at him briefly.

"So what's _your_ rule seven?" Abby finally asked.

"Don't panic," Tony answered quickly.

"Why would you panic?" Abby frowned.

He looked to Ziva before he could stop himself, and suddenly everyone was staring at her.

She looked back and forth between them, unsure what exactly to say, the smell and the anxiety fragmenting her thoughts. Then she left, doing her best not to run until she was out of sight.

Tony stared after her.

"Oh, no!" Abby started to dart toward the door, but Tony caught her arm.

"Don't, Abs," he said quietly.

She turned worried eyes toward him. "She's upset!"

He flinched, knowing her reaction before he spoke. "It's not about you. Saleem drank that stuff, too." He nodded toward her caf-pow.

Abby followed his gaze, then looked back at Tony, stricken. "Ziva," she whispered.

Tony nodded, then snapped his head toward McGee. "Get Abby's report up to Gibbs, I'm going to check on her." He didn't wait for McGee's reply, instead dashing down the hallway. He barged into the women's room, checking under the fortunately-empty stalls, before trying the door to the men's room. It was locked.

He knocked softly. "Ziva?" he called. "It's me."

After a moment he heard the bolt being drawn; then she pulled him inside. Tony held her tightly.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently.

She shivered, but nodded.

"Maybe there should be a rule about holding hands at work."

Ziva looked up, her eyebrows lifting ironically. "You are holding _me_ right now."

"Good point," he grinned.

Her face grew more serious. "Perhaps one about not trusting Abby with sensitive information."

Tony froze, remembering the last time he'd made Abby keep a secret.

Pressed against him, Ziva couldn't avoid noticing the sudden tension in Tony's body. "What is it?" she demanded.

He pulled away from her, trying to find the words. They both turned, startled, when the door jerked.

"We have to gear up, guys!" McGee shouted.

He spun back to her. "At home," Tony said.

Ziva nodded.

*

"So when did Abby keep a secret for you?" Ziva asked abruptly as they entered Tony's apartment that evening.

Tony glanced toward her. "What?"

"You got nervous when I said not to tell her secrets. Tony, I was an interrogator for many years."

He put on his charmingest grin. "And a damn good one."

She cocked her head. "Yes."

"Just...come here and sit down." He pointed to the couch.

Ziva sat, her brow knitting in worry as she watched Tony pace.

"Look..." He stopped in front of her. "There are still things we've never really talked about. And I don't want to wreck whatever this is, but I don't we should avoid them for the rest of our lives either."

Now Ziva's eyes went wide, a thousand things they'd never talked about flashing through her mind. "Go ahead," she said faintly.

Tony swallowed hard. "There was a day last spring when Ducky told me you'd been in a bombing in Morocco while I was at sea."

She nodded. "Yes."

He sat down next to her, studying his hands. "I went to watch the footage. There you were, laying on a gurney, bloody and incoherent." He closed his eyes, then opened them and found Ziva watching him sympathetically. "Later, when I remembered it, it felt like that was a premonition. Like that feeling I had when I saw you on the screen, that horror and loss and desperate need to unwish what was happening...like it was just a glimpse I didn't know I was having of your death." He sighed. "But at the time, I had Abby look into the man on the screen with you."

"Michael."

"Yeah," he snorted emphatically. "And she did it. And she kept it to herself, because I asked." He gave her a look. "And because we were _both_ concerned about you."

Ziva smiled tightly, accepting the endorsement of Abby's secret-keeping. Then she shook her head, her eyes filling with pain again. "Why didn't you tell me you saw it then?"

Tony shrugged. "When I drove to your house that night, I was thinking about it." He saw her eyes widen as she realized which night he meant and grabbed for her hand. "Don't panic."

Ziva nodded.

"I hoped he was gone, that I could tell you how anxious I'd been ever since I saw it. Since I realized how close I had come to losing you." Ziva blinked quickly and Tony almost thought she was crying. "What is it?" he asked, concerned.

She shrugged helplessly. "If only he had been gone. Our lives would be so...so different. You wanted to unwish that bombing? There are so many moments I would change if I could, Tony."

"I know," he sighed. Then Tony sat up straighter. "But there is one rule I think we should have, after all of this. No secrets." Ziva shifted warily, and he began to defend the rule at once. "Ziva, secrets have never made our lives better. Every secret we've kept from each other has led to disaster." He saw her eyes widen and realization rushed over him with a wave of fear. Tony took a deep breath before making himself ask. "Or are there still more secrets?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. It felt like vertigo. Like falling. She was flashing back through time to another moment she had wished a thousand times she could redo. "I killed Ari," she whispered.

"Gibbs killed Ari," Tony said blankly, uncomprehendingly.

Ziva felt it like a kick in the stomach. She had known ten seconds ago that she had to tell him, that there could be no more secrets. Now she knew that with this admission she would no longer be worthy of Tony's love. She opened her eyes and shook her head slowly. "He would have killed Gibbs. I had to do it. I killed him."

Tony was on his feet at once, irate. "How could he?"

"Kill Gibbs?" She was confused.

He turned to her angrily. "How could Gibbs let you do that? Kill your own brother? What kind of--" He stopped when he saw a tear slip down Ziva's cheek. "What?"

She wiped it frantically away as Tony took a seat again, leaning in to rest a hand on her shoulder.

"Ziva?"

She shrugged helplessly. She didn't have the words to explain how stunned she was by the fact that after everything she had done, Tony leapt to her defense. "In my wildest dreams," she whispered, "I never hoped to be forgiven for it."

"But it wasn't your fault," Tony protested.

Ziva nodded, her eyes shining. Seeing his reaction, knowing this was Tony at his most honest, she believed it for the first time in nearly five years. "You're right," she said huskily, "about the secrets."

"No more," Tony said firmly.

"No more," Ziva agreed.


	4. Always Be Faithful

**Making Rules**

Thank you all for your lovely feedback so far!

Please note that our rating has gone up to T. There will be discussions of rape in this chapter, though more about recovery than graphic descriptions of the act itself. I did do some internet research to back up some of the things Tony says; I hope this is realistic enough without being too upsetting.

* * *

Ziva woke and stretched out across her bed. For once they hadn't been called in on a Sunday and she'd slept until the light from outside roused her. Ziva shifted to see the clock. It was nearly ten already, she noted in surprise. And if she'd dreamt, she didn't remember it.

A clicking from outside made her sit up abruptly. Tony had slept over on the fold-out couch. Slipping out of bed, she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and use the toilet. Since she had struck him while dreaming a few weeks before they hadn't slept in the same bed. Ziva regretted the awkwardness but also didn't want to risk hurting him.

Straightening her pajamas, Ziva opened her bedroom door. Tony had folded the couch back into itself and was sitting cross-legged with her laptop open across his legs.

"Having cyber-sex?" she asked teasingly.

Tony slammed the laptop closed, looking up guiltily, before he took in her words. Then he tried to grin in response but Ziva was already frowning.

"What were you looking at?" she demanded.

"Nothing, I--"

She leaned forward and grabbed the computer, only to have Tony grip it in turn, his eyes panicked.

"Ziva, don't--" Tony began, but when he saw the irritation in her eyes turn to fear, he released his hold on it.

"I thought we said no secrets," Ziva said quietly, not opening the laptop yet.

Tony pursed his lips.

"What were you looking at?" she asked again.

He swallowed hard. He hadn't closed the window; all she had to do was lift the lid to see for herself. "Looking at websites about recovering from rape." Tony watched Ziva's eyes go wide, saw her grip tighten involuntarily. "When I searched...you had visited those sites before."

She looked down at him, wary-eyed. "Yes." Ziva set the laptop down on a side table, out of his reach, and began to walk away toward the kitchen.

"Shouldn't this be something we can talk about?" Tony called after her.

Ziva spun, but didn't speak for a long moment. "I don't know how," she finally managed. She looked away. "And I don't want to spoil the morning remembering...that."

Tony sighed quietly. "Alright, but sooner or later we need to."

She nodded, still not meeting his eyes. "Later, then."

*

A half-hour later, breakfast made, they had finally resumed normal conversation when Ziva's cellphone rang. She grabbed it off its charger and glanced down at the name on the screen. _Damon._

"Excuse me," she murmured to Tony and slipped into the bedroom.

He watched the door, forcing himself to chew loudly and not try to eavesdrop.

Finally Ziva emerged, her posture nervous again. "That was Damon," she announced.

Tony's eyes darkened.

Ziva held out a hand to pacify him. "He is moving tomorrow. But he is my friend and I...I am having dinner with him tonight."

Jealousy flared through him. "Well, one of the rules has to be that we don't flirt with other people."

She went from tentative to defensive in a flash. "You do not get to make these rules by yourself, Tony. We have to decide them together."

"Oh, so you think I should go out and find some young thing to sleep with while you're having _dinner_ with a man who couldn't keep his eyes off you a few days ago?" As the words _sleep with_ left his mouth, Tony saw Ziva's eyes fall and even as he finished speaking he regretted his words. "Look," he set a hand on his hip. "This time I am jealous. It's not the most rational thing in the world, but I am."

Ziva nodded, her gaze still downcast. "If you wanted to...find someone else, for that, I would understand," she said very softly.

He shook his head, stepped toward her and lifted Ziva's chin to make her look at him. "That's not at all what I'm talking about. I have no problem waiting until you're ready. I just want to know that when you're ready it'll be with me and not...someone else."

She shrugged, irritated now that they were back to that topic. "I told you he was just my friend, Tony. What more do you want from me?"

Tony sighed. "I don't know. It's not rational. I trust you, but it still makes me a little crazy."

"A little?" Ziva teased. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on to him. "I was being honest when I said last week that Damon and I have some things in common, that I appreciate talking to him. But he could not take your place in my life."

Tony hugged her back. "Good." He paused. "Can no flirting still be a rule?"

Ziva laughed against his collarbone.

"What?"

"Palmer suggested something about 'Love the one you're with.'"

"I'll kill him," Tony snarled jokingly.

"I think he meant you."

"Oh."

Ziva leaned back. "Sometimes it is necessary to flirt on cases. For both of us," she said evenly.

"Well, no enjoying it with other people," Tony proposed. She flinched and Tony kicked himself. "Ziva, I meant--"

She shook her head to silence him.

"We have to be able to talk about this," Tony said firmly, loosening his arms around her waist and holding her by the shoulders.

Ziva looked up at him miserably. "I will come by after dinner. We can talk then."

"Okay." Tony released her. "Well, I have to go home and do some laundry on this lovely Sunday. But I'll see you later." He moved around her apartment, gathering his clothes from the night before and setting his dishes in her sink. Ziva watched, frozen, from the center of the living room.

"Tony," she said softly when he was ready to leave.

He turned to her.

"Always be faithful." She paused. "Is that the right way to say it?"

Tony smiled. "Yeah."

She walked to where he stood by the door and rested a hand on Tony's shoulder, leaned up to kiss him lightly. "You have nothing to be jealous of."

He kissed her again. "I'll see you tonight."

*

Ziva tilted her head back, laughing.

"And if I didn't ring the damn bell after that, I was never going to," Damon finished, grinning at her.

She struggled to breathe. They'd spent the last two hours playfully debating whether training for the Marines or the Israeli Army was more hard-core and telling stories about the pranks and hazing incidents in their careers. Ziva sighed. "Well, once I--"

Their waitress stepped forward at that moment, setting down the check. The girl had been nervous since she'd come by with their dessert and overheard a story about dismembered limbs.

"Thanks," Damon said reassuringly, taking the check.

Ziva reached at once for her purse. "Let me pay," she said firmly.

"That's alright," Damon protested.

She plucked the paper from his fingers. "At the moment I am the only one of us who is employed. When you are in town next, you can trick me."

Damon frowned, perplexed, as he watched her dig for her credit card. "Treat you?" he finally asked.

"What?"

"You meant pay for dinner, right?"

"Of course." Ziva gave him a blank stare.

Damon shrugged. "Sure thing." He reached over and squeezed her arm in gratitude.

Ziva smiled at him, then glanced down to calculate the tip. Damon stroked a finger down along her hand, and suddenly she wasn't focused on the numbers. For a moment, in spite of her words to Tony earlier that day, she thought about the choice she had to make right now. The obvious answer was to tell him about Tony and go home. But it might be easier to have the first time be like this, where she didn't have to see him again if it went badly, where she didn't really care what he thought of her. Ziva glanced up at Damon. But she didn't want to use him. And it would hurt Tony.

"I have started seeing Agent DiNozzo," she said hesitantly.

Damon snatched his hand away at once. "Of course," he said awkwardly. "I'll get our coats."

Ziva winced in sympathy as she watched him walk away, then returned to her calculations.

*

She was grateful that the evening had been pleasant, that the dinner conversation had been light, but as Ziva sat outside Tony's apartment building half an hour later, her heart was already pounding with anxiety.

Just remembering what had happened in Somalia, the rough dirt floor beneath her back, the rope abrading her wrists, the stabbing pain, was enough to make her want to crawl out of her own skin. She had had men want her purely for her body before, certainly; Ziva was no stranger to the uses of her sexuality. But she had always been in control of it. To be rendered a thing, less than a person, had torn into her more deeply than any of their physical efforts. They had reduced her to nothingness: no agency, no choice. Over and over and over. Ziva squeezed her eyes closed, but the images were inside her head.

A tapping at the window made her jerk, startled.

Tony peered in, caught a glimpse of her expression. His eyes grew concerned. He opened the door, already shaking his head. "I didn't mean to push you, Ziva. If you still can't--"

Now Ziva shook her head. "We should talk, Tony. You were right."

"Okay." He stopped. "Are you ready to come in?"

She nodded hesitantly and followed him inside.

*

Inside the apartment the curtains were open, revealing Ziva's car parked on the street below. Tony entered and turned to see Ziva hesitating on the threshold. He took her hand gently and drew her inside. "Sit down?" he offered, gesturing to the couch.

She took a seat at one end, leaning back against the arm and drawing her knees up to her chest. Tony sat down in the middle, leaving a foot between them. When Ziva stayed silent, he began to speak. "What I read said that I should let you talk about it, and be patient, and let you decide about how intimate we get and how fast." She still didn't answer. Tony sighed. "I know I said I didn't want you to tell me, that night when you had a nightmare. I'm ready now. I want to help you."

Ziva pressed her forehead against her knees. "Alright, Tony," she said softly. "I will tell you."

He flinched, bracing himself to hear something he knew he could never fully be ready for.

She kept her head down as she spoke. "The first couple weeks or so—it was hard to keep track of time—they thought they would get information out of me. They beat me, tortured me. They had less training in interrogation than I did and it was painful but not hard to resist. But after that..." Her voice sank to a whimper. "I still had potential use as a hostage, but it did not matter what condition I was in. Saleem let his men use me for their enjoyment." Her voice trembled on the last word. She went on, describing in broad strokes the acts that had been forced upon her, trying to spare Tony the details.

When she finally ran out of words, Ziva leaned back, easing her fingers out of the tense fists they'd formed on her elbows. She looked to Tony at last, waiting for his judgment.

His face was impassive, but Tony's eyes were blazing.

Ziva shrank back.

Tony held out his hands at once, helpless for a moment to explain what he was feeling. "I just want to kill them all for hurting you," he said, irate, his whole face taken over by the feeling.

She exhaled in a way that was almost a cry.

"Ziva?" he asked, putting aside his anger in the face of her emotion.

She met his eyes, forced out the question that had gnawed at her for months. "You still want me?"

"Of—of course." Tony reached for her, then hesitated. "Is it alright if--?"

Ziva nodded and he took her arms, tugged her against him so that she was sitting between his legs with her head resting on his chest. Tony settled his arms around Ziva's waist. "Nothing they could do could change my feelings for you," he said quietly in her ear. "Nothing."

"Thank you," Ziva whispered, almost too faintly for him to hear.

He hugged her more tightly. "You'll let me know what you're ready for?"

"Mmhmm," she murmured, beginning to relax. "Can we just sit here for a while?"

Tony pressed his lips gently to her temple. "Of course."


	5. Ask and Take Nothing For Granted

**Making Rules**

Welcome back! Sorry for the delay, work's been insane. In spite of the 9 snow days, Maryland isn't moving back our state testing. Six more school days to get ready! After this weekend, you won't see too much of me here for a bit. Also, the next chapter will probably be rated M (finally, some consensual action!) so you'll have to check the M section for it or set an alert.

This chapter doesn't actually feature Tony that much, as it evolved out of an idea for a one-shot about Ziva and Abby that I never wrote. But he'll turn up in the end.

* * *

Ziva's eyes lingered on Tony's fingers, even as she tried to listen to what Abby was saying. He was holding the velvet throw-pillow Abby had eliminated as the means of suffocation and was rubbing it gently, creating stripes of fibers pressed up and down. They had given each other massages last night, a step toward intimacy, and as she watched his hands Ziva couldn't seem to distract herself from remembering the pleasure of his touch.

She jerked her head up as Tony turned toward her, flushing as he met her eyes. Ziva caught a moment of surprise and awe from him and smiled self-consciously as she watched him realize his effect on her. He slowly grinned, then kept turning toward the door.

"Bye, Abbs," he called back over his shoulder.

Ziva glanced around uncertainly. She'd missed the last bit of the conversation.

Abby smirked at her. "So what's up with you and Tony?"

"What do you mean?" Ziva asked stiffly, blushing.

The other woman grinned mischievously. "Oh, come on, Ziva. You couldn't take your eyes off him."

Ziva shrugged. "We should not talk about this at work."

"You're totally thinking about it at work!" Abby protested.

With another shake of her head, she took her leave. "I'll see you later, Abby."

"We'll talk!" Abby shouted after her.

*

Ziva's eyes darted around, evaluating every corner of the waiting room as she entered. No threats identified. It was her Mossad training more than what she'd been through, but she was always on the alert in public places now.

The receptionist nodded to her in recognition. "Doctor Harper will be ready in a moment," the girl said pleasantly.

She smiled her thanks. But just as Ziva went to take a seat, the door to Harper's office opened. She sprang upright, then stopped, frozen.

"See you next week," the previous patient said brightly as she waved to the doctor. Then she turned and saw Ziva. Abby hesitated on the threshold, mouth open in surprise and discomfort. After a long moment, Abby closed her mouth and crossed the room nervously. "Hey, Ziva."

"Abby!" Ziva didn't know what to say.

"I'm just..."

"Tony said you recommended her..."

Abby nodded. "Well, yeah..."

Ziva pursed her lips. She'd been trained early on to read people, and Abby's stance didn't suggest she'd just had a pleasant hour. "Abby, would you like to get a drink later?"

She hesitated.

"If we are not at work, we could talk about...things that are not work appropriate," she hinted, teasing.

Abby smiled faintly. "I always knew you had some girl talk bottled up in there somewhere, David."

Ziva grinned back. "I will be done in an hour. Where should I meet you?"

Abby named a place not far away and headed for the door. As Ziva headed into the doctor's office, she caught Harper's sharp gaze evaluating their exchange.

As soon as they were alone, Ziva snapped into interrogation mode. "Why was Abby here?"

"You know I can't share that," Harper said mildly.

"Is she alright?" Ziva demanded. "She is my friend."

Harper raised her eyebrows. "And would you like it if I told Tony what you and I discuss without consulting you?"

Ziva glared a moment, then relented. "Fine."

The doctor nodded firmly. "Good then. So. How are you this week?"

*

Ziva walked into the bar. It was a Tuesday night, and most people seemed to be home watching TV, so it was easy to find Abby. Not that she didn't stand out most of the time. Ziva walked over to where she was sitting in a small booth, her back to the door. She laid her hand on Abby's shoulder and frowned when Abby stiffened.

"Hello, Abby," she said quickly, and smiled before Abby could turn and see her concern.

"Ziva!" Abby exclaimed, standing to hug her.

She tried not to stiffen herself, then sat down across from Abby, smiling gratefully when she saw the other woman had already bought her a beer. She wrapped her hands around it, tapping at the glass.

Their eyes met uncertainly.

"So you and Tony?" Abby finally asked.

Ziva tried not to smile too foolishly. "Yes. Me and Tony."

Abby laughed at the look on her face and Ziva covered her eyes with a hand. "Super assassin in love! I love it!"

She laughed in turn. "We are taking things slowly, but so far they are going well."

"Good." Abby smiled fondly. "I'm really happy for you guys."

Ziva spoke up before things could get awkward again. "Abby—you may tell me if you do not wish to talk about it, but is everything alright? You seemed tense when I saw you earlier."

Abby's face fell, her emotions transparent as always. She winced. After a moment she spoke. "After what happened to you, I don't feel like I should be complaining..."

Ziva's jaw dropped in surprise and then guilt. "If something is wrong, you can always tell me," she said finally. "We are friends, aren't we?"

With a small smile, Abby nodded. She took a sip of her beer. "You remember when I went to Los Angeles a few months ago?"

"Of course!" As Ziva remembered, she realized why Abby had been hesitant to compare their experiences.

"I begged onto the case, but then...I was in a parking lot and he came up behind me, covered my mouth and injected something into my neck..." She swallowed hard and Ziva instinctively slid her hand across the table to cover Abby's.

"We heard something had happened; Gibbs had us in the car on the way to the airport in seconds," she offered.

Abby nodded. "I woke up drugged, tied to a chair, facing a bed. He was talking to me...I bit his finger...I can still taste the blood." She finished in an agonized whisper and Ziva squeezed her hand harder. "I kept talking back. He offered to spare me another night if I slept with him, but it didn't seem like he was going to try to force me. They found me maybe a minute before he killed me."

Ziva ached for the anxiety in Abby's voice. "I am sorry we were not there in time. Gibbs was screaming at everyone he thought could get us a plane for hours; we were on the runway when we got the call that they had you secured."

Abby smiled, the gesture only a little forced. "I was only really aware of what was going on for about an hour of it. And I'm doing okay now, really. But right after that I'd get pretty nervous in parking lots, especially at night. Which I guess isn't really that unreasonable a fear, considering the crime rates in DC, but I'd seen Dr. Harper years ago, like I told Tony, when I was in a self-improvement phase, and after all of this I needed someone to talk to."

"You can always talk to me," Ziva said firmly.

"Thanks, Ziva," Abby said. Then she grinned. "Remember when we first met? I never thought we'd be friends some day!"

Ziva nodded ruefully. "We have all come a very long way."

Abby cocked her head. "So what were you talking to Harper about? If you want to tell me."

Ziva hesitated, remembering the rule about Gibbs. But this wasn't about claiming a friend, and Tony had been the one to emphasize trusting Abby. "You will keep it to yourself?" she asked after a moment.

"Sure," Abby nodded, eyes curious.

She pursed her lips. "Tony and I are taking things slowly. Because I was raped in Somalia." It was the first time she'd said it so bluntly, without trying to avoid the brutality of the statement.

Abby's eyes softened in horror and sympathy. Now she was the one squeezing Ziva's hand, her eyes bright. For once she was at a loss for words.

Ziva continued. "We have been...exploring." She thought back to the night before and her face suddenly felt like it was on fire.

Abby grinned at Ziva's expression. "Nice."

She nodded, smiling self-consciously. Then her expression sobered. "Last night we were going to give each other massages and it was the first night that he saw me without clothes," she paused to shake her head when Abby raised an intrigued eyebrow, "and it was...difficult for Tony to deal with."

"The self-proclaimed master of sex?" Abby teased, but her eyes were nervous.

"Abby," Ziva took a swallow of beer, "I have many scars." She looked down into her drink. "He looked at my back, and said he had to go to the bathroom. Which I believed, but...I went to join him when I heard the sink running and when I opened the door he was sitting on the floor, crying." She blinked away moisture in her own eyes at the memory.

"Oh, Ziva," Abby whispered.

She looked up. "He said he just hated that he hadn't been there to protect me, and after a few minutes he did come out." She tried to smile. "And I gave him his massage, and he relaxed. Once he realized I was no longer in pain, he didn't worry about massaging me too." She closed her eyes, suddenly back in the emotions of the night before. "It makes him angry, I know, and me too, that they ruined parts of this for us!"

"Hey," Abby said firmly.

Ziva opened her eyes.

"That's awful. It really is. But you have each other, and even if you take things slowly you'll get there eventually. And Ziva, he loves you. He really, really loves you. Seriously, think about it. I don't Tony's let anyone see him cry in a long time, and I know I've never seen this look on your face before, so be glad you've got what you've got!" Abby smiled wistfully. "You two are so in love it makes me jealous sometimes."

Ziva tried not to look startled. "We have not said that yet. That we love each other."

Abby gave her an incredulous look. "What are you waiting for? Haven't you learned anything? Bombs blow up all the time, and people get crazy diseases in the mail, and sometimes you actually want to kill each other--" She stopped herself when she saw Ziva pale. "I've been thinking about your whole rules thing, since you told us last week. And I think Ducky was right--'Don't take anything for granted' is one of Gibbs' rules that works for life, not just work."

Ziva nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Abby."

Abby nodded back, then leaned in conspiratorially. "So what do you know about Gibbs and the evil lawyer lady?"

They drank and talked for another hour, staying on more neutral subjects. Finally Ziva downed the end of her beer and set it on the table. "Abby," she said slowly. "Is it alright if I tell Tony what we talked about? About LA?"

Abby hesitated, then shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

Ziva smiled. "I really am glad we talked, Abby."

Her friend smiled. "Me, too."

*

Ziva knocked on Tony's door. She wondered if he would mind if she just picked the lock. But after a moment, he opened the door for her, and the grin on his face was worth the wait. Ziva stepped into his arms, hugging him hard. Tony leaned back to kiss her lightly.

"Were you drinking?" he asked in surprise.

"With Abby." She kept her arms around Tony's neck as he tried to step away.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, stretching his arm past her to push the door to the hallway shut.

Ziva took a deep breath. "I love you," she said firmly.

A smile spread slowly across Tony's face.

"Well?" she finally demanded.

He grinned even wider. "I love you, too." He pressed his lips to hers, sealing the exchange with a lingering kiss.

Finally pulling away, Ziva slipped out of her jacket and boots.

"So do I have Abby to thank for that?" Tony asked teasingly.

Ziva cocked her head. "A bit. She pointed out...one of Gibbs' rules is to take nothing for granted. And she was saying that anything could happen and you should not take time for granted when you love each other."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "You told her first?"

She gave him a look. "It was Abby. She knew."

He laughed, still delighted that she loved him. "Well, we'll have to adopt that one."

Ziva nodded. "I agree. And also..." Her brow furrowed.

"Yeah?" Tony asked.

She looked up at him. "There should be one about asking. Because Abby was upset about something from months ago, and we did not know. I feel like I should have asked her how she was doing."

"Is she alright?" he asked, worried.

Ziva nodded slowly. "I believe so. She will be at least. But we should not be afraid to ask each other things like that."

"Okay." Tony smiled again. "Ziva David, how are you?"

She rested her hands on his chest, her eyes glowing. "Wonderful. And you?"

He sighed happily. "Best day of my life."

* * *

Hope you liked it! I've never gone in for stories with gratuitous TIVA professions of love, but they've worked for it.


	6. Do It Right Or Not At All

**Making Rules**

This series began with Jet Lag, which aired in January, so let's just all agree that at this point in the story it's mid-February, okay?

So, if you haven't noticed, this is rated M! Just making sure you knew. I have written very little that warranted such a rating, so I hope it works.

Also, for the record, credit for this rule goes to macadoodle3. If the rest of you have any other suggestions, too, I'm still open to inspiration!

* * *

Tony glanced at his watch, then at Ziva. He grimaced.

"It was only dinner, Tony," she said lightly, gazing through the window into the interrogation room where Gibbs was working on their suspect.

"It's Valentine's Day!" he protested. "Plus it's Sunday. And dinner time. And I'm hungry."

She reached over to squeeze his arm for a moment. "We can celebrate tomorrow."

Tony sighed melodramatically. "I guess."

Ziva arched an eyebrow. "I thought we agreed that it was just a day and our relationship is too new to do anything elaborate."

He glanced away. "I was looking forward to having dinner with you."

She smiled up at him, but just then Gibbs slammed his fist down on the table and they both whirled back toward the window in time to hear the beginning of the confession.

*

Two hours later, Tony dropped the case file unceremoniously on Gibbs' vacant desk and turned to Ziva. "Ready to get out of here? I could call the restaurant and see if they have any late tables left."

Ziva hesitated, then shook her head. "If you do not mind, Tony, it has been a long day." She added a coy smile. "If we're going to go somewhere fancy I'd like to have the energy to enjoy and it and some time to dress up."

"Yeah," Tony managed, suddenly remembering the times in the past when she'd dressed up. He had them all committed to memory.

"Tony?"

"Sure thing." He reached for his coat. "Well, we could stop by the bar, at least. Toast to St. Valentine." He pulled it on.

"To whom?" She frowned in confusion.

"You weren't kidding when you said they don't have Valentine's Day in Israel, were you?"

"I have lived here for many years," Ziva pointed out, "and no one has ever mentioned there were saints involved in this holiday."

Together they headed for the elevator.

"Well," Tony began, then paused. "Actually, I have no idea what that's about, either. But I'm pretty sure he was a saint."

*

They made it to the bar just after ten, but even the usual Sunday crowd of locals seemed to be home celebrating by then. Tony and Ziva slid onto stools at the counter, and he quickly ordered their drinks. Tony turned back to Ziva in time to catch a yawn.

"Ah," Tony sighed, "that's incredibly romantic."

Ziva started to glare, then yawned again.

Tony laughed, then yawned himself. "Did you know yawning is contagious?" he asked, his mouth still gaping. "I heard somewhere--"

"There you go," the bartender said, setting the glasses down in front of them.

"Thank you," Ziva smiled.

The bartender nodded back, then froze, staring into her face in startlement.

Ziva drew back, nervous. "What is it?"

His eyes flickered to the wall at the end of the bar, full of photos and names of fallen agents.

Tony followed his glance and realization flooded over him like a punch to the gut. "Thanks," he said quickly, before the man could explain. He nodded shortly to Tony and headed off to the other end of the bar to help some people who'd just come in.

"Tony?" Ziva asked worriedly. "What was that?"

He took a deep breath as he met her eyes. "I think he recognized you."

She shrugged. "Well certainly, I have been in here a number of times in the past few years."

Tony took a long swallow of his drink, trying to wash away the memory with alcohol even though he'd already spent months that summer proving he couldn't. "Come here." Taking Ziva's hand, he led her to the wall.

Ziva looked up at the photographs, beginning to understand. She stretched her hand up to gently touch Paula Cassidy's face in recognition, then Michelle Lee's.

"This one is Kate," Tony said softly, his fingers grazing the picture.

She looked up at him, waiting.

Tony's fingers found a bare spot at shoulder level and rested there. "A few days after we heard that you died, Abby and McGee and I came here. Abby hadn't stopped crying, I hadn't stopped drinking...McGee was trying to keep us from totally losing it but he was falling apart, too." He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw as the despair he'd felt suddenly returned. "Abby brought a picture I'd snapped of you once at a crime scene. She keeps the photos we're in somewhere on one of her computers and...anyway, she brought it." He opened his eyes again, focusing on his outstretched fingertips. "We put it up right here." Ziva was holding his other hand so hard it hurt, but he'd never been gladder of any sensation in his life. Tony turned to look at her. "Do you remember that case, right before you left? You climbed a tree, and you were perched up in the branches, laughing. I took a picture with my phone."

Ziva nodded, her eyes shining. "I remember, Tony."

He pulled her against him. "That's why he recognized you. But this is what matters." He hugged her hard.

She leaned back just enough to kiss him, and Tony kissed her back fiercely. They stayed there together, lips locked, for several minutes until Tony stepped back, panting, fighting to remember that he couldn't sweep her home and into his bed.

Ziva smiled up at him, her lips faintly bruised, then tugged him with her back toward the bar.

*

Two more rounds and some bar food later, they headed back to Tony's; they'd been alternating nights at each others' apartments, one or the other on the couch. As they stepped inside, Tony kicked the door closed and kissed Ziva again, pressing her back against it.

She moaned into his mouth and Tony felt his body respond. She was alive and willing and _moaning_, and after the night's reminders of what else could have been, he couldn't help himself. Tony wanted nothing more than to keep going, but instead he stepped back, his eyes dilated with desire.

"Tony?" Ziva asked, her voice husky.

He closed his eyes against the hunger storming through him. Tony shook his head. "I can't start this with you right now and then stop. I'm sorry." He opened his eyes in time to see her wince.

"It might be alright. We could try--" she began.

He shook his head again, grimacing in frustration. "Have you ever heard the expression 'do it right or not at all'?"

Ziva sighed. "I can guess what it means."

Tony nodded ruefully. "When we do this Ziva, you're going to be sure." He kissed her once more, chastely. "Time to change for bed."

*

"_Ziva_."

The cry woke her from a sound sleep. Ziva opened her eyes and laid still, sure someone was calling her. But as a silent minute passed, she decided it had been something she'd dreamed and closed her eyes again.

"_Ziva._"

This time she knew what it was: Tony was moaning her name in his sleep. Heat flooded through her as Ziva imagined what he must be dreaming about. She'd had similar dreams herself in the past few years.

"_Ahhhh."_

The wordless groan drew her upright, all thought of sleep forgotten. She slid off the couch and tiptoed to Tony's door. He had kicked off his comforter and was twisting in the sheets, his breath coming hard and fast as he dreamt of her.

Ziva watched him, desire winding her tighter and tighter. She closed her eyes, trying to tell herself she shouldn't. Do it right or not at all...but at that moment, she could hardly believe this was wrong. She wasn't afraid of him, wasn't the least bit nervous about touching him or him touching her.

She crossed to the edge of the bed and slipped under the sheet. Ziva watched him for another hungry moment before sliding half on top of Tony and kissing him.

The moment he woke was never quite clear to Tony later. His surroundings shifted from dimness to dark, from her bed to his, and suddenly as he rolled over Ziva was there beneath him with more solidity than she'd had a moment ago, and her fingers slipping into his boxers were squeezing him in ways his brain didn't have the experience to dream up. He groaned as she touched him. Her free hand slid into his hair, pulling him in for a kiss which he returned fervently.

Gradually reality settled in at the back of his mind and Tony pulled back. "Ziva?" he asked in sudden confusion.

She shook her head, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Don't stop," she breathed, sliding her hand faster on him to make her point.

Tony thrust instinctively and kissed her again, his own hand slipping between her legs. He could feel the heat of Ziva's arousal through the thin cotton of her pajama bottoms. She arched, moaning, as he touched her. Her reaction wiped out his concerns and Tony let himself give into the demanding way she touched him, into the release that had seemed imminent even before he woke and was now seconds away. He heard himself cry her name out as he came.

Ziva shivered deliciously as the vibrations of his cry resonated through her. She didn't release him until his breathing finally began to slow. But then Tony's fingers flickered against her in turn and pleasure suddenly washed over her.

"Can I?" Tony whispered in the darkness.

"Yes," she murmured back, licking suddenly dry lips.

His fingers eased beneath the waistband of her pants as he leaned in to kiss her again. Tony could tell at once how ready she was and didn't tease. He'd save that for later. Instead he found where she wanted him to touch her, fondled and pressed and stroked his fingers into her until Ziva came in turn, her hips jerking against his hand, his name on her lips.

Ziva rested her head on Tony's shoulder as she came down from her orgasm, her arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He rubbed a hand up and down her back.

"Did _that_ right," Tony murmured.

"Mmm," Ziva sighed, yawning again.

He chuckled as her breath blew across his chest, and turned to hold her close against him.

*

Waking the next morning, her body still languid, Ziva smiled against Tony's chest.

"We should add that to the list of rules," Tony said softly against her hair.

She nodded, gladder than ever to have survived.


	7. No Stupid Risks

**Making Rules**

Back! I've been trying to figure out the structure of this story as a whole instead of just writing it chapter by chapter and posting immediately, which is how the others so far have come to you, and I've figured it out! We're going to be hooking back into the episodes starting with Mother's Day (and the _Conversations _chapter about it) several chapters from now; these next bits will fill in the hiatus the show took. Enjoy the fluffiness of this, there's angst on the horizon.

PS I love you all for reviewing; when my kids are exhausting I sit and reread the reviews on my lunch break and smile.

PPS This chapter also warrants the M rating!

* * *

Tony stood frozen as he watched the scene play out. Ziva was immobile opposite Petty Officer Tom Harrow, both their guns drawn and aimed, leveled at each others' hearts. He'd lost his own in the fighting earlier, had no way to stop what might happen next.

"Maybe we should just put these down and go our separate ways," the man said lightly, smirking. "Or we could just shoot each other. It's a classic game of chicken, no?"

_Bang._

Tony leapt in his own skin, his eyes whirling to Ziva as she dropped to one knee, loosed three shots back at Harrow. He fell instantly, bullet wounds in his head, throat and chest.

"Ziva!" Tony reached for her.

She shook her head, her eyes meeting his impassively. "He missed. Did you see the way his shoulders tensed before he took the shot? He gave himself away."

Tony felt like he could hardly breathe. But before he could say anthing they heard Gibbs' voice calling both their names. Gibbs and McGee ran into the room, toward Tony and Ziva and the fallen officer.

"We're fine," Ziva said quickly, nodding reassurance to the rest of the team. She turned back to Tony. "What did he mean, 'chicken'?"

*

Documenting the scene took the next hour, and then Ziva had more than her usual share of paperwork since she'd discharged her gun, but when they got back to Ziva's apartment Tony still felt like he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"What is it?" Ziva looked up at him, concerned, as she turned from taking her coat off and found him still standing in the doorway.

Tony closed his eyes, remembering seeing the flash of Harrow's gun and smelling the singed air, remembering that horrible instant when he was sure she was lost. He took a deep breath. "Look, I know I freaked you out about this after the thing with Damon and the truck, but we've said 'I love you' now, Ziva, and I do. I love you. Don't tell me you love me too and then go throw yourself into danger."

She clenched her teeth, waiting out his speech. "I did not intend to get into that situation, Tony, but I know how to handle myself! This was not the same—that day with the truck, I was making sure I wanted to live." She paused for emphasis. "_I do._ Today I made a choice _as an agent_ that I thought was right. And I stand by it." She cocked her head impatiently. "What would you have done?"

He rubbed a hand across his eyes and took a step toward her. "I don't know. Probably the same thing." Tony pulled off his own coat roughly, frustrated. "I didn't know this would be so hard. I've seen you in dangerous situations plenty of times. But now you're not just my partner."

A smile softened her mouth as Ziva moved toward Tony, stopping a foot in front of him. "What am I then?" she asked, her eyes alluring.

He swallowed down the fear at saying it out loud. "My future."

Ziva's eyes flooded with wonder, then she smiled up at him brilliantly. After a moment, though, her smile faded. "My job is not going to change, Tony. I do not want it to. You can not ask me to."

Tony nodded glumly. "I know." He reached out and took her hand in his. "Just...No stupid risks, alright? Can we promise each other that?"

She nodded, smiling fondly. "Agreed." Then Ziva's expression grew sultry again. "Just in case this does go badly one of these days..." She leaned up and kissed him.

They had been pushing closer and closer to sex in the last few days, since the night she'd crawled into bed with him. Tony responded to her instinctively, but the demanding way Ziva was pressing against him gave him pause.

He pulled back. "Would doing this now be a stupid risk?"

Ziva leaned away from him, frowning with concern. "Are you afraid to have sex with me?"

Tony opened his mouth to deny it, then stopped. "Are you?"

Her eyes dropped a moment, then returned to his. "No. No, I'm not." Ziva looked at him emphatically, tried to make him believe what she was saying.

He studied her carefully. "I don't want to be part of the pain you've been through, Ziva. I don't—Dr. Harper was trying to tell me that it's not unusual for women to panic after they've been...raped...during sex, I mean--"

Ziva held up her hand to stop him. "I will never be able to promise you I will not have a panic attack, Tony, but I do promise not to let you hurt me."

He took a deep breath. "Isn't it still a risk?"

She sighed. "Loving me is a bigger one."

Tony laughed. "Okay, then." He nodded, then his eyes widened as he realized what he'd just agreed to.

"Okay," Ziva repeated. She grabbed his hand and tugged him along as she slowly backed toward her bedroom, never breaking eye contact. As she crossed the threshold Ziva let him go and gave him a tantalizing look, reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, then slid her hands down to the button of her jeans.

Tony stepped into her space, his hands on hers. "Let me," he murmured in her ear, slipping a finger through one of Ziva's belt loops. She tilted her head and kissed him.

Their clothes were off at once, and Tony drank in the sight of Ziva's body, no longer dwelling on her scars and lingering thinness. Instead he noted the swell of her breasts and hips, the way her hair, pulled free of its ponytail, cascaded down around her.

"What?" Ziva whispered, pressing close.

Tony leaned down to murmur against her throat. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?"

She shivered and pushed him toward the bed. He sat and looked up at her with desire in his eyes. Somalia was the furthest thing from Ziva's mind as she let him pull her down beside him.

They kissed and any worries faded. It flashed through Tony's mind as he teased her with his touch that all the women, the dates and hook-ups and flings, had been good for one thing: he knew how to do this. How to make her forget everything except sensation and delight.

A ragged cry escaped her lips a while later as Tony's fingers dipped into her body and found her flooded with arousal. Ziva nipped at his shoulder, making him gasp in turn.

Tony rolled them so she was straddling his hips. "Like this?" he murmured.

She nodded, waiting impatiently while he rolled on a condom. Ziva poised herself above him, smirking willfully as Tony moaned with his own impatience at her teasing. Then she sank down.

He thanked his experience again for what he knew in the next moment: there was nothing in Ziva's face but pleasure. She was alright. There was as much joy in his voice as enjoyment as Tony began to move, began to drive them both faster toward ecstasy.


	8. If You'll Regret It, Don't Do It

**Making Rules**

I'm pretty sure this is another rule from macadoodle3. I'm not sure how your rules keep ending up sounding kind of dirty...

Okay, this is the last of the fluff. Then I get to blow things up! Figure about a week passed between the last chapter and this one, to explain their increased comfort level with each other.

* * *

Tony stepped behind Ziva, taking a deep breath of her hair. "Do you know what I've always fantasized about?" he asked, his voice soft and deep.

"What is that?" she asked in turn, her tone playfully cool.

He opened his mouth to answer, but the elevator doors slid open at just that moment and McGee, waiting on the other side, raised his eyebrows.

Ziva led the way out of the elevator. Tony knew without looking that she was smirking at him. He followed her back to their desks and sat, his libido lost in the face of Gibbs glaring at the both of them for taking longer to get back from their crime scene. Tony threw himself into the search for information and suspects, only to pause when an envelope in the corner of his computer screen warned him he had mail.

_The elevator? _it said simply.

Tony's eyes darted across at her, but Ziva was seemingly engrossed in a phone call about banking records. He frowned, trying to distinguish if she was making the call up or really speaking to someone. But she didn't hang up after a full three minutes, so he shrugged and got back to work. Another envelope appeared a few minutes later.

_The table in interrogation? Maybe make a movie?_

Now that was an image that was never going to leave his head. Tony swallowed hard, glaring ferociously across their desks as Ziva twirled the phone cord around a slim finger.

_Behind Gibbs' desk?_

Damn it, she was seriously keeping him from getting anything done.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs snapped.

He jerked to attention.

"Go check in with Abby."

"On it, Boss." Tony's eyes widened as he stood, and he quickly grabbed a file off his desk for modesty's sake. He didn't miss the quirking of Ziva's lips as she took in his state, but he didn't give her the satisfaction of meeting her eyes and confirming it.

He strode quickly to the elevator, then stopped, his face falling into a look of consternation. She'd seriously ruined the elevator for all time. Metal boxes weren't supposed to be erotic. Sighing, Tony headed down the stairs.

In the lab, Abby was waiting, humming with energy. Tony diligently committed her report to memory.

"Just hang on a sec, I'll grab the ballistics print-out from the other room," Abby sang, darting off.

Tony watched her go, then flew toward her computer, opening his email. Three new messages.

_There are those contamination showers no one ever uses._

_ Or on Vance's couch?_

_ Maybe up against the wall of the men's room?_

He shuddered. He so should not have started this. Ziva was a professional at this.

Abby hummed to herself as she stepped back into the main room of the lab and Tony quickly reached to close his email. A new message popped up and he stopped just in time.

_Men's room on Abby's floor, 2 minutes._

All of his blood rushed away from his brain. "Thanks, Abbs," Tony said quickly, nearly snatching the papers from her as he logged out of his account.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "No problem, DiNozzo," she called after him as he darted for the door.

Tony flew down the hall and through the door of the men's room, remembering comforting Ziva here just a couple weeks earlier. This was not going to be about comfort. He grinned, then whirled as she peeked in and pushed the door open.

"I have fantasized about this for quite some time," Ziva said lightly, stalking toward him. She kissed him and Tony pulled her hard against him.

After a moment, he flinched and leaned back. "This is probably a bad idea," he said regretfully.

Ziva nodded calmly. "Definitely. We are at work, we are breaking all sorts of rules..."

"Plus you're not even ever supposed to be in here," Tony added.

She gazed up at him a moment longer, then their mouths flew toward one another, their kisses devouring. Tony felt her fingers on his belt and thrust against Ziva's hand.

He had just had time to slide her skirt up and lift her around his waist when the door opened.

"For the love of God!" Gibbs shouted, one hand flying up to cover his eyes.

Tony froze, then felt Ziva pulling at his arms and set her down to straighten her clothes. She tried to tug his boxers into place and he flushed, taking over.

"Boss," Tony said, his voice strangled.

"What were you thinking?" Gibbs growled, dropping his hand.

Tony flinched. "We knew it was a bad idea."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, irate. "I have no problem with you two seeing each other, but when you are in this building or out on a case, your attention had damn well better be on the job at hand or you will no longer be on this team. Is that understood?"

They both nodded complete understanding.

"And if you knew it was a bad idea, which you should have, you should have stopped! If you know you'll regret something, don't do it!"

"We'll make that a rule, Boss," Tony said, still petrified.

Gibbs shook his head and turned to leave, then whirled back, wagging his finger in the air. "And Ziva, the men's room is for _men_. Enough of this already, you two don't have to have every serious conversation of your relationship in a bathroom."

"Yes, Gibbs," she said quickly, her eyes laughing.

With a last shake of his head, Gibbs left, heading down toward the lab for the report that he'd been waiting for. "Or at least lock the door," he muttered under his breath.


	9. Always Trust Each Other

**Making Rules**

Hey kids, finally some more plot development! You should have known the fluffiness was too good to last... *We're still pre-Mother's Day*

This chapter was provoked by an interview I saw somewhere online from the Paley Festival last week, in which Michael Weatherly was asked if Tony is too immature for Ziva. The response (borrowed from some website) was, ""I take issue with the question... You're defending the Mossad assassin against an all-American guy who just wants to have cheeseburgers and french fries? I mean, what's the worst thing about Tony? He's like 10 pounds overweight? _She_ _kills people for a living_! And everyone's like, well don't you think he's a little immature? It's like, well, one of them has a moral code and the other one is a complete, you know, what would she be? An anarchist? Come on! She's a female James Bond. She's a sociopath." Anyway, beyond thinking that ararchism doesn't mean what he thinks it means, I though this was an interesting point. And thus this came to pass:

* * *

The phone was ringing somewhere. He was pretty sure the phone was ringing somewhere. Then Ziva sat straight upright beside him in bed, her entire body tense, and Tony was awake.

"It's just the phone," he murmured.

She turned to him and slowly nodded.

"I'll get it." He swung his legs out of bed, flinching at the chill. Tony stumbled to the living room and grabbed the landline, wondering why Ziva even had one. "Hello?" he asked groggily.

A woman's voice burst out of the receiver, loud and angry and completely incomprehensible. After a minute Tony worked out that the first word had probably been Shalom and that whoever it was probably wasn't just crazy.

"Ziva," he called, pressing the phone to his collarbone, "It's for you."

She padded out on bare feet, swaddled now in her bathrobe, and took it from him. "Shalom?" she asked sleepily.

Tony crossed the room to flip on the light-switch. He turned, but instead of finding Ziva blinking sleepily, he saw her eyes wide in fear.

"Toda," she whispered into the phone, hanging it up. Her eyes never left Tony's.

"What is it?" he asked at once, tiredness falling away as he fed off her reaction.

Ziva sighed shakily. "We need to get to Gibbs. I can explain to both of you then."

Tony nodded his willingness and darted back into the bedroom. They dressed silently in the darkness.

*

Tony slid behind the wheel, glad Ziva wasn't fighting him for it in her state.

"Gibbs?" she said softly into her cellphone. "Good. There is an emergency. Tony and I are coming over." She paused, listening, then snapped her phone closed. "He will be waiting," she said resolutely.

Glancing at her, Tony could see that behind the tension that had seemed like fear to him before, there was sadness in Ziva's face. He reached out to squeeze her hand, and she smiled at him gratefully.

"How bad is it?" he asked softly.

She looked away. "I am not sure. I am hoping Gibbs will know."

*

Ziva paced in front of Gibbs and Tony where they sat on the couch. Her arms were folded across her body, bracing her against the trembling that was threatening to overtake her.

"Ziver?" Gibbs finally asked softly.

She turned, laced her fingers together, squeezing her palms against each other. "Alright," Ziva said softly. Then she began. "I got a call earlier, from a woman I know in Mossad." She nodded slowly at the instant alert in the men's eyes. "I cannot tell you her name, but it is not important. What she told me was that the media in Israel have gotten a hold of some information. A list of people who were assassinated with the permission of the Director but less than the full knowledge of the Israeli government."

"People _you_ assassinated?" Tony asked quickly.

She nodded. "Some of them."

"They know you did it?" Gibbs added thoughtfully.

Ziva hesitated. "That is why she called. They do not know it was me, but—she has reason to believe that it was my father who released the information. That this is a threat to me directly." Her eyes fell to the floor. "Some of them...if he made it public, there is no way I would ever be allowed to become an American citizen."

"And if he names you for them, you might even have foreign governments or InterPol after you," Gibbs said slowly.

Ziva's eyes leapt to his as she nodded.

"What does he want?" Tony burst out, looking back and forth between them.

Gibbs shrugged slightly. "Hasn't made any demands, as far as I know from the director."

"To me either," Ziva added, shaking her head.

"Shot across the bows," Gibbs murmured. Ziva frowned, confused, but Gibbs waved it off instead of trying to explain the idiom. He glanced at a clock. "It's already nearly five. Feel like sleeping?"

They both shook their heads.

"Good. You two go into the office. Ziva, I want you to find out the names that were released and review the cases in your mind. Don't commit any of it to paper! And then start making a list of other questionable hits your father has ordered you or other agents to do in the past. Just in case."

Ziva let out a long breath, her tension easing away in the face of orders, of structure. Tony wrapped an arm around her waist as they stepped out into the cold night. She rested her cheek on his shoulder a moment for comfort.

Tony pulled her against him for a moment as they reached the car. "It'll be alright," he said firmly.

She looked up at him, tried to smile. "Thank you."

He kissed her.

*

An hour later Tony looked down the list she'd handed him, ice settling in the pit of his stomach as he scanned how many of the names she'd highlighted. "All of these?" he asked in a whisper.

She watched him intently, suddenly nervously, from her perch on her desk. "Yes," she said firmly. She paused. "Those are not all of my kills. Only the questionable ones."

The cold was reaching up to his heart. "What makes them questionable?" he asked.

Ziva could feel the emotion in his voice and tried to keep her voice level. "Some were young, teenagers who had already gotten involved in terrorist movements. Some seemed too old to warrant assassination, especially if they had reformed their lives. Others were killed for reasons that had more to do with political power than the crimes they had committed." She caught the look of revulsion on his face. "I had orders, Tony!" Her words echoed through the empty bullpen, his name trembling on the air.

He looked up at her, his entire body chilled now as he looked at her with new eyes. She had been ordered to kill, and again and again she had done it without compunction.

"What?" Ziva whispered, suddenly fearful of the distance in Tony's eyes.

Tony glanced back to the list. "I didn't know," he said softly.

Ziva swallowed hard, leaning forward to see the pages filled with streams of yellow.

He met her eyes. "I just need to figure this out for a minute."

She nodded, still nervous, took a step back. "I am going to go down to the gym and run," Ziva said tightly. "Would you like to come?"

Tony shook his head. "I'll see you later."

"Alright." Ziva looked almost scared as she turned and walked away.

He watched her go. When she'd disappeared into the stairwell, Tony glanced down and ran his finger down the three pages of the list. Nearly thirty names were highlighted. Thirty questionable names. He shuddered. If it were anyone but her...he didn't like to imagine what he'd think about someone else who'd done this. Gritting his teeth against the reality, Tony flipped the papers over and headed toward the break room. He'd need some coffee before he could face the day.

*

A case came up nearly as soon as Gibbs and McGee made it in, and Tony and Ziva saw little of each other all day except in rushed exchanges of cameras and evidence bags.

At five o'clock, released on time for once, Tony stopped in front of Ziva's desk. "We have an appointment with Dr. Harper in half an hour," he said softly.

She glanced up. "I had not forgotten." She smiled. "She will be glad that for once we have not had to cancel because of a case."

Tony nodded back, his mouth returning her grin but his eyes humorless. He waited while Ziva slipped her coat on, then led them toward the elevator.

"Wait up!" McGee called from his desk, and joined them, making small talk about the case.

Tony listened to McGee and Ziva talk on the way to the parking lot, but didn't join in. He wasn't sure what was going to come out when he finally opened his mouth.

*

In the car, Ziva tried to make a list of all the rules they'd come up with in the two weeks since their last appointment. "Have we only made 9?" she asked thoughtfully. "It seemed like more."

Tony shrugged, his eyes on the road. "We could add a few quick ones. No meat and dairy?"

Ziva smiled. "Then you could not have a cheeseburger. Or pepperoni pizza."

"That's out, then," he muttered. Tony could feel Ziva's eyes on him as they parked and headed inside, but she didn't ask anything. In the elevator, she laced her fingers through his, and her touch was so exactly what he needed that Tony's chest ached. He clutched her hand as they made their way through the labyrinth of halls to Harper's office.

The receptionist waved them in, and Eileen Harper smiled from her doorway at the sight of the two agents hand-in-hand. But she didn't miss Tony's joyless expression. "Come in," she said brightly, gesturing, and closed the door behind them.

Tony and Ziva took their usual seats opposite Harper's desk.

After the usual pleasantries, Harper smiled firmly. "Last time you were here, we talked about you making some rules. How'd you do?"

Ziva loosed Tony's hand so she could reach into her pocket and pull out the now-crumpled list she'd made in the car. With a smile, she read down the list. "No Secrets. No Stupid Risks, Gibbs—our boss—is not part of our relationship, Take Nothing for Granted, Ask Questions, Be Faithful, Do It Right or Not At All, Don't Panic, and," she turned to Tony with a blush, "If you will regret something, do not do it." Ziva squinted at him when he didn't respond to the phrase.

Harper looked them both over carefully. "That seems like a good start," she said slowly.

Tony perked up at the merest hint of disapproval in her tone. "What's missing?" he asked, slightly wounded.

She pursed her lips. "It's not that anything's missing, Tony. You two have clearly put a lot of thought into these. It's just that after my conversations with both of you about trust, I'd expected that to be on your list."

Ziva was surprised. "It did not occur to me, but Always Trust Each Other would be a good rule." She smiled self-consciously. "We have been through so much...but I do not feel I have to worry about not trusting Tony."

Harper caught how Tony's eyes dropped to his lap. "Do you agree, Tony?"

He turned, inexorably slowly, toward Ziva. "I'm not sure," he whispered. It hurt just to say the words, but far worse was the shock and pain in Ziva's face as they registered in her mind. He saw her breathe deeply to fight back sudden tears and hated Eli David more than he'd ever hated anyone in his life.

"Why not?" she whispered.

Tony closed his eyes, unable to look at her any longer. He turned away, spoke facing his knee caps. "You showed me that list this morning." He glanced up at Harper. "Of people she'd...killed, for Mossad. With permission!" he emphasized. "A long time ago." His eyes dropped again. "I always knew what you did before NCIS, I teased you about it a thousand times. But until I looked at those names, I never really knew what it meant. You went out and found those..._people_...and took their lives away, left their families as lost and destroyed as I was last summer." He looked toward her, bereft. "And I know you were raised to do it, I know Eli screwed with your head. But the very first day I met you, the first thing you made sure I knew was that you were Mossad and you were proud of it."

Ziva looked stricken. "You do not think I have changed since then?" she asked, her voice slightly wild.

Tony shrugged helplessly. "I know you have. But I still...I don't know what I think about all of it." He watched as she gasped for breath. The only thing he wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her as hard as he could and tell her to forget everything he'd said. But all Tony could think of were the names.


	10. Don't Walk Away

**Making Rules**

Is it wrong that when Tony basically killed the victim last night, I grinned with glee because I could totally make it a major plot point for this story down the line?

This chapters is short because as much as I hate endings building things up and then not showing the fallout, I really liked the last chapter ending where it did. But after this chapter, this section of the story is done but will be continued in a third part. Details on that at the end. Thanks to everyone who sent in rules, and especially to everyone who left substantive reviews!

* * *

Ziva walked down the hall, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. The silence roared in her ears. After Tony's words—_I'm not sure—_nothing from the last hour stood out. She glanced up. He was there, three feet ahead of her, but the silence was a wall three feet thick. Her eyes fell to the ground as they entered the elevator.

Outside the building, she stopped. After a moment, Tony felt her absence and turned. "Ziva?" he asked gently.

She studied his shoes. "I'll call a cab," she murmured.

"Hey," he stepped toward her, but stopped short of touching her. "It's late, I can take you home."

Ziva shrugged, but followed him to the car.

They were silent again as Tony drove, but at her building he surprised her by parking the car and walking her in. Once they were through the door, though, the spell broke and Ziva met Tony's eyes, looked straight into him.

"We've been trying to get here for five years," she said, anguish creeping into her tone. "Don't that mean anything?"

Tony stepped into her space. "I love you, Ziva. I wasn't lying about that. But until I know if I can live with who you are, I don't want to pretend this is forever."

Her heart lurched at the words. Barely two weeks ago, they'd come home from their last appointment, had sat right there on the couch. _I don't ever want to be apart from you again,_ he'd said. She had been sure he meant it. Ziva tilted her head back to look into his eyes. "I love you," she said firmly, not a response to his statement but a declaration of her own, words that had taken so much pain and strength to get out. In his eyes Ziva could see Tony's desperate regret. She leaned up, kissing him lightly. He couldn't help his response, kissed her back, held her against him as she brushed light kisses over his jaw and throat.

After a minute, Tony got his resolve back. "No," he said mournfully, stepping away. She reached a hand toward him instinctively as he pulled away and he took another step. "No."

It was not the first time in his life that Tony had broken a woman's heart. But it was the first time he'd known a woman so intimately well that he could watch it happen. He saw the tears rush into Ziva's eyes, saw her blink them quickly away, caught the trembling in her jaw she couldn't quite stop until she finally clenched her teeth. He noticed the way her shoulders hunched in, defensive, protective. And as he closed his eyes and tried to look away from her pain, Tony heard a single gasping sob escape her body.

"I have to go," Tony said roughly, unable to take any more

"Don't walk away," Ziva said, hating the way she seemed to beg.

"I have to," he repeated, a sob of his own building up in Tony's chest.

And then he turned away from her.

And then he left.

*

Ziva crawled into her bed. The sheets smelled faintly of Tony, his sweat and cologne. The scent triggered a flicker of desire in her belly, but she shut the thought out. She pulled the blankets tightly around her, surrounding herself in his lingering presence because it was the only thing that she wanted, it was the only thing she'd found that could shut out all the pain she'd lived through.

They had woken up here just this morning, to the ringing of the telephone. The tears began to fall. Yesterday she'd teased him with emails. Her shoulders were shaking. For weeks he'd taught her how to sleep soundly, how feel safe, how to feel pleasure. A sound slipped past her slips, a whimper. His love had saved her life. And now he'd taken it away. For the first time since she was five years old, Ziva cried out loud, even as she wondered how she could possibly be surprised.

*

Tony drove wildly on his way home, barely heeding stoplights. Inside he pulled the list of of his pocket, downed shot after shot as he stared at it, waiting for the point when it wouldn't matter any more. He passed out before he got there.

* * *

Well, Making Exceptions had a happy ending. You didn't expect two in a row, did you? Part 3 will be called 'Making Mistakes,' because what's the point of making rules if you can't, you know, break all of them? *Gleeful laugh* The rule-making format is over, so it makes sense to me to start with a new section, plus the rating isn't going to be this high again for at least a while. I'm hoping to have the first chapter up tomorrow, so don't forget to check!


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